Crash and Burn
by Vanilla Mochi
Summary: Although seemingly modest, she was always the prideful one. Maybe that was why she refused to give up despite the consequences. The bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki: Hetalia Style! Warnings: Serious America! Nyotalia Japan! And no pairings whatsoever!


"No, America-san." And like that, all of America's hopes of ending the war went down the drain.

May 7, 1945. That was the day Nazi Germany had finally surrendered to the Allies, effectively ending World War II in Europe and while America would've been celebrating with England and the others, there was just one more problem; it came in the form of short girl with a black bob.

Sakura. Sakura Honda. She was better known as the personification of Japan.

If America thought Germany was trouble then he'd have to think twice when dealing with Japan on the Pacific side of his land. For one thing, she was able to deal quite a lot of damage to America, starting with the bombing of Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. Japan's kamikazes or suicide pilots had taken down many of Alfred F. Jones' navy ships. And then there were her resilient Japanese soldiers who were made of stone, unafraid of killing and death.

There was really no wonder how she conquered almost all of Asia including the Philippines, much to America's great irritation.

However, along with power, came corruption as well. America had remembered the feeling of pain and misery that overcame him during a meeting with the other Allied countries when her Japanese soldiers forced his own on the Bataan Death March (1).

But there was no time to contemplate about how strong or cruel Japan was, not with thousands of lives on the line.

"Japan!" America exclaimed exasperated, "Come on, we've already taken over Iwo Jima and Okinawa. If you surrender, we'll return those territories to you."

"I told you already, America-san." She said firmly, her dark brown eyes burning into his blue ones, "As long as there is a chance of victory, I will continue to fight along with my soldiers. We will be victorious, no matter the cost."

"Damn it, Japan! This is not about pride or glory or anything like that!" He slammed his fist against her wooden door frame. "We are talking about thousands of lives here! If my boss allows the army to invade your home, many people are going to die, including innocent women and children! Why do you think I came here anyways?"

"I have already told you twice, America-san." From his tall figure, it would seem that he would be the intimidating one to Japan, but for some reason, America found himself thinking it was the other way around, her arms crossed tightly across her black military uniform, her katana by her side, ready to be drawn at any given moment.

Although she looked perfectly fine on the outside, save a bandage covering her cheek, America knew that she was probably in great pain from the Battle of Okinawa. She had lost over 100,000 troops either killed, captured, or had committed suicide, "We will not change our mind. No matter what you say. I suggest that you leave. Now. If you don't, I will not hesitate to call the police to remove you; they are not as merciful when it comes to enemies."

"Wait- Japan- Sakura-chan-"

"You have lost the right to call me that a long time ago, America-san. Good-bye." And she slammed the sliding door in front of his face.

Technically, he should be the one to say that. He still hadn't forgiven her for those 2,700 lives lost at Pearl Harbor, but still, there almost no logic or reason during the times of war. Sure, maybe there was a perfectly sensible reason why America had allied himself with the other Allies, but on and off the battlefield, it was not logic and reason that ruled the soldiers, it was instincts: survival instincts.

America figured that Japan would say that. Out of the Axis Trio, although Germany was the strongest out of himself, Italy, and Japan, it was Japan that ended up the most successful, having more territory than the Aryan nation.

Part of the reason was how hardworking she was always trying her best, always trying to do things to improve her island country. The other part was that like her fearless soldiers, she was stubborn and prideful, like a lioness. She always saw things through to the end and when things got tough, she never was the one to give up. Probably because she'd never forgive herself if she did so. Dignity and honor were two very important values of both hers and her soldiers and giving up was considered cowardly, amongst them.

However, if she was stubborn, that also meant belief-wise as well. And if you combine that with her dignity, then there'd be nothing, including logic and reason that make her think otherwise about surrendering.

Nothing, including logic and reason would be able to make Japan think otherwise about surrendering, not with her pride.

"So she said no." President Harry Truman, America's boss stated. There was no anger in his voice, but was rather grave, as if he expected Japan to say that. He had his elbows resting on the desk, his hands together, covering his mouth.

"Yeah," America said, his hands shoved into his bomber jacket pockets, frowning, "I tried to convince her, but she wouldn't listen."

"I see." Truman turned to the window behind him, still seated in his large black leather chair, continuing, "Then we have no choice."

America looked up, surprised and uneasy, "No choice?"

"We have no choice, but to use the Manhattan Project (2) on her."

It was only a few seconds before the great nation's blue eyes enlarged as he knew exactly what was meant by code name 'Manhattan Project', "S-sir!" He slammed his rough hands on the President's desk, "There's got to be a better solution! Japan- Her people- They'll be-!"

"Alfred," America was sternly reprimanded, as the president faced him again, "we are talking about half a million lives here. Japan will suffer a hell lot more than she would from the A-bomb. I've already given the air force the approval to use it; they're taking off at 1 tomorrow."

That very same night, oblivious to the time difference in Japan and to that its personification might be in the middle of a meeting, America called Japan via the telephone in a tone of urgency.

"Hai? This is Honda Sakura."

"Sakura! Thank god you picked up!" America exclaimed into the receiver; for a moment there, he was afraid Japan wouldn't answer getting about five million leaflets showered on her cities and a scathing warning from Truman.

But then again, Sakura was too polite not to.

"America-san?" Japan retorted, disappointed yet still hung on, continuing severely. America had to bet that either she was expecting a call from Yoshijirō Umezu or she was with him and her other superiors in discussion, "Is there something you need?"

"No, not really, but…!" He had a feeling Japan was assuming America was trying again to get her to surrender. America did have a reputation for being stubborn, to the point of using force to attain what he desired, but then again, so did Japan. "Look, you need to listen to me when I say this: get your people in Hiroshima out of there."

"And why should I do that?"

Truman was definitely going to have his ass for this.

"We're dropping an atomic bomb there." Japan didn't respond.

"Japan?" There was silence on the other side of the line, so he took it as a sign to go on, "Truman knows you won't surrender. He's just giving you one last chance. Please listen to me, Japan."

Instead of a reply from the short Japanese girl in his attempt to warn her and if possible, reason with her, all he got was a laugh. Not the soft gentle laughter America was used to. No, the shy sweetheart, Japan that he once knew had been gone for years. That very same girl had been replaced by a harsh, yet determined Japan who gave the cynical, hard laughter, similar to the very same kind America had granted her after the events of Pearl Harbor.

"Is this some kind of joke America-san?"

"What? No! Of course not! Why would I joke about something like that?" was America's shocked answer.

"Don't make me laugh, as much as you used to. If you think that such empty threats can scare me, then, well, you've severely underestimated us."

"Japan!" America responded, exasperated, "I am not trying to intimidate you or anything. I'm just trying to help."

"So that you can be the hero?"

"No! Okay, so maybe by helping you I could be the hero, but still, thousands of your people, innocent women and children are going to die! Please Japan, you've got to believe me on this!"

"I'm sorry America-san," Japan apologized, though not sounding the least bit sorry, "but I don't trust you."

"Japan-"

"Sayonara America-san, the next time we meet, it will be on the battlefield; and I won't show any sympathy for you."

"C'mon Japan, don't hang up on me now-" America paused in his words. Damn it. She hung up on him. Giving the phone a threatening stare, he cussed violently under his breath slamming the receiver down with all of his might.

This was not going to end well.

_August 7, 1945_

The day after Little Boy (3) had blown up Hiroshima, Alfred had immediately charted a helicopter for the ruined city; he brought medical supplies with him as well.

To say Hiroshima was in bad shape was an understatement. It was in a horrifyingly terrible state: houses were in shambles, once paved roads were no more, great wooden trees that stood tall and proud before were reduced to ashes. To say the least, Hiroshima was now a wasteland.

But what got under America's skin the most was the smell of the rotting corpse of her people, their ever so constant moans for help, children crying for their parents, the grim faces of the survivors, wrapped head to toe in bandages; even with the layers of bandages, blood still seeped through them. Just looking at them made him sick in his stomach as he gritted his teeth tightly and couldn't help thinking:

'I caused this?'

When he tried to help them, however, Japan refused to let him to do so.

"I'm just trying to help, Japan." America snapped after her bloodied hand slapped his own away in disgust.

"What are doing here?" Japan asked hostilely, ignoring his statement. Her voice was coarse, raw crying and her eyes, or rather eye since her left eye was heavily wrapped in bandages, once soft, was bloodshot with tears threatening to spill yet again. Despite being in the same condition as the survivors of Hiroshima, she was trying to tend to their wounds with the meager remedial provisions she had at hand. "Why are you here?"

"To help you of course. You don't seem to have enough medical equipment for everyone, so I brought some with me." He held up a plastic bag of bandages, ointment and such for her to see.

"Why?" She only got angrier, "Did you really think I was going to let you help me? Why should I let you when you," she repressed a sob down her throat, "you are the one who caused this!" She stretched her hand out, showing him the burned remains of Hiroshima.

Not bothering to look him in the eye, she stood up from her spot next to one of the victims of Little Boy, wincing in pain at the same time, "If you have no reason to be here, then leave."

"Japan, isn't there something I can do? You don't have to face this alone. It'll be okay; my government won't find out."

"America." She said, removing her katana from its sheath, pointing the blade directly at his throat. No longer was she holding her tears back as they were streaming constantly down her cheeks. "Please leave! Now! If I ever find you on my land again I will cut you down. It is not a threat; it is a promise. For everything you've done to my people. Now go!"

That was last time America spoke to Japan before the end of the war.

When Fat Man (3) was dropped on Nagasaki, America didn't bother to even call Japan to check how she was doing because he knew that she would've lashed out on him like a wounded tiger that even when crippled, she still had her pride and would not let that go.

That night however, and following ones too, America was plagued with a flu of nightmares consisting the tortured screams and cries of the living and dead Japanese affected by both Little Boy and Fat Man. Most of all though, he was haunted by Japan, whose left eye and right leg were charred to a crisp due to both weapons of mass destruction. She would be crying: "Why?"

_September 2, 1945_

The next time he spoke to her was September 2, 1945 in which he got a telegram from Japan saying that the Empire of Japan agree in the terms of ending the war, hereby surrendering. They would relinquish all conquered territories.

And so, that very day, America had boarded the American battleship Missouri along with MacArthur, watching, in contrast to how he normally would, silently in the background as the Japanese generals signed the Japanese Instrument of Surrender4. He noticed Japan was also there, in a wheelchair, covered like a mummy, neck down in bandages. She looked on the scene stonily yet also melancholy.

"I tried to help you." He said sadly; he placed a black gloved hand tenderly on her shoulder, staring down at her emotionless.

The broken empire didn't say anything, looking straight ahead at the scene unfolding in front of her. The war was finally over and while she was rendered of everything she used to be, she still had her pride. It was the only thing that she refused to let go of, even now.

(1) The Bataan Death March was a forced march made the Japanese and Allied war prisoners up the Bataan Peninsula (walked more than 50 miles). Out the 70,000 prisoners who made this walk, only 54,000 survived.

(2) The Manhattan Project was the code name for the development project of the atomic bomb during WWII

(3) Little Boy and Fat Man were the names of the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

(4) The Japanese Instrument of Surrender was a written document, signed by the Japanese leaders that allowed them to surrender and finally end WWII.

**A/N: How'd I do?**


End file.
